


Rookie Blues

by wordsmithraven



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Background Jocelyn Fairchild/Luke Garroway, Casual Racism, Family Fluff, Gen, Mild Language, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 02:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10323509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsmithraven/pseuds/wordsmithraven
Summary: Rookie cop Luke Garroway will do anything for his little girl, Clary, even for the smallest of reasons. When he learns about a mistake on the morning of her school trip, Luke is on the case. Obstacles along the way threaten to tear at his patience and he has to figure out how to keep his cool as he navigates mundane relationships, hoping to find a way to make her happy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little thing about Luke, his dad instincts with Clary, his early days with Jocelyn, his relationship with Magnus (Can I write a SH fic w/o him? No. lmao), and how he deals with being a Black rookie cop.
> 
> *Mild spoilers for the Bane Chronicles.
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> PS. There's some cursing sprinkled in.

Luke sat idling in an alleyway across from a line of stores and restaurants, sipping at coffee. It was early morning on a Monday, just after seven. Behind the car, deeper in the alley, Luke could see from the rear view mirror of his squad car the blurred forms of his partner, Cameron Delaney, and the man’s confidential informer. They’d been partners for less than a year and in that time Luke had learned exactly three things of note about Delaney: he had an arrest record that was impossibly high, he had a strange obsession with motorboats, and he was a racist.

Delaney had been a veteran cop with fifteen years on the job but some mistake or hierarchal, political gaff had gotten him bumped down to uniform quicker than he could blink. His bitterness permeated everything around him and had only gotten worse when he’d been partnered with “some useless baby cop who couldn’t find his ass with his hands if he were sitting on them.”

Delaney didn’t like Luke—because he was Black, because he was handsome, because he was strong, because he was young, because he was seeing a white woman…take your pick. He had let Luke know the score immediately when they’d been partnered together. Scoffing in disgust at the picture of Jocelyn and Clary in his locker, conveniently forgetting to get him coffee during a stake out, making sure to dump all the paperwork onto Luke to complete, insinuating that Luke was just a “thug” in disguise. It was a long list of things designed to get under Luke’s skin. He endured because to do otherwise would put his job on the line.

He _needed_ this job. For Jocelyn and Clary…and himself.

Until Delaney turned into a homicidal maniac bent on genocide that literally threw him to a pack of wolves, Luke figured he wasn’t the worst partner he’d ever had. He could wait him out. The rumors around the precinct were that someone was putting on the pressure to get him fired. A leftover from whatever fuck up had gotten him demoted. Luke gave it another six months, tops.

In the meantime, this was Delaney’s latest attempt to ostracize him. Meeting a CI to a drug ring case they were doing the footwork for to support a couple of plainclothes. Luke knew Delaney was going to try to cut him out of the information flow and take all of the credit. It didn’t matter though as Luke had already gotten in contact with his own CI. A nixie who occasionally dipped her toes into the mundane drug scene. Luke already had an idea of the identities of three of the drug ring’s lieutenants, he only had to do a little canvass work to be sure. Then the information would be in a report on its way to the chief investigator before Delaney could even try to one up him.

Luke took a sip from his black coffee, the aromatic steam wafting along his cheeks as he popped the top. The chatter of his radio mixed with the impatient honks of a cab driver stopped at a corner by a bike messenger.

The piercing ring of his cellphone rose over the din and he grabbed it up quickly.

“Hello, Officer Garroway.”

“Luke,” a smooth voice answered him. Magnus.

“Hey…what happened?”

A pause. “Why would you ask that?”

Luke shifted behind the steering wheel. “Magnus, you never call me unless there’s something wrong or you need me to pass some message on to Theo since you still hate his guts.”

Luke tilted his head, “Is this about that young pup who lost his cool at your nightclub? I can try to get Theo to punish him but you know he hates you too. He was probably cheering the guy on. No promises on it.”

Magnus hummed and replied, “Ah, no but thank you for letting me know. I actually called about something completely separate. Clary left her sketchbook.”

“What?”

Magnus sucked his teeth a little. “Last night when Jocelyn came to pick her up it was very late. Jocelyn was clearly exhausted and I’m embarrassed to say but it slipped my mind. Clary, of course, didn’t remember anything and it all came together that they left without it. My apologies. Clary was so excited about her trip, I know she’d be crushed if she couldn’t draw her time there in her sketchbook.”

“Oh. Did you try calling Jocelyn?”

“She’s not picking up her phone. Didn’t she say something about new management cracking down on them?”

That’s right. Luke remembered Jocelyn saying something about them being confiscated now. Jocelyn was a housekeeper at a hotel near Broadway. The work was grueling, the hours long, the people tiring, and the pay small. She had taken the job to make ends meet when her art hadn’t taken off as quickly as she’d hoped.

Just after the change, Luke had been recovering from his injuries and had been sequestered with the Pack trying to learn how to adjust to being a werewolf. It was only recently Luke had been allowed to look for work outside of odd jobs for Theo, his Alpha. It had taken him over four years of adjusting and working patiently within the community to gain the trust that let him pursue being a cop. It was a high stress job, not best for a werewolf, and it took some convincing about what good it would do for the Pack before Theo relented. Then another year of stress training before he was allowed to go to police academy. He’d graduated with top honors.

But his pay wasn’t enough to support two households yet. He, Jocelyn, and Clary couldn’t live together. Even if he ignored the disapproval of his Pack, Luke couldn’t risk the kind of notice a lease and nosy neighbors entailed that said a Black man named ‘Luke’ and a redheaded white woman named ‘Jocelyn’ were intimately connected. Both the Clave and the Circle’s spies were everywhere and the Cup was ever on their minds. He lied to his superiors and coworkers that they were just childhood friends but if they moved in together, the jig would be up. So they lived separately, Jocelyn had to get a job, and Luke tried to give her money off the books after the Pack took its tithes.

“You can’t just…you know, magic it to her?”

Luke could hear Magnus shifting about. The clinking of glass and pouring of liquid, potions or liquor Luke didn’t know, provided a backdrop to the warlock’s voice.

“No can do. I have no way of safely seeing the surroundings while sending it. If she sees the book appear, it could jog her memory. The spell is fresh on, like a scab over a wound rather than a scar. She won’t be able to rationalize it. Not to mention if a human accidentally saw it appear. I shudder to think…”

Luke nodded even though Magnus couldn’t see.

Suddenly getting an idea, he shifted the phone to his other ear as he reached up to adjust the mirror look back onto his partner.

“Okay, Magnus, listen…I’m in my squad car in an alleyway across from that pasta place, Galliano’s, near 12th and 7th in Park Slope. Do you have an idea where that is?”

“Yes, I’m familiar with that area,” Magnus drawled.

“Okay, can you send the book to me? My partner’s not in the car now so I can hide it in the side of the door before he gets back.”

“Sounds perfect. Give me a second to pinpoint you.” Magnus went silent as he concentrated.

Before another minute passed a small, spiral bound book appeared in the air above Luke’s lap. It fell and Luke rushed to stop it from hitting either the horn or his crotch. A close shave.

“There. Did you get it?”

“Yeah, it’s here,” Luke said as he rubbed at his sore thigh. A corner of the book had poked him.

“How will you get it to Biscuit?”

“I’ll figure something out.” Somehow.

Magnus hummed, “I’m sure. Let me know how it goes.”

“I will.”

“And I will try to call you more often for something _other_ than trouble or your pesky Alpha. I swear, Luke.”

Luke hesitated at that, a little shocked. He’d never expected to hear that from him. Luke had known Magnus for quite a few years now. Since his days as a young shadowhunter, in fact. But their first meeting had not been ideal. Luke had still been Val’s _parabatai_ , so beloved by him that he’d been hurting and killing innocent downworlders and other shadowhunters in Valentine’s name.

When Magnus had come across Luke for the first time, the Circle had been in the midst of enacting violent Circle justice on some werewolves, believing lies that they’d killed Val’s parents. It had all ended in the slaughter of the New York Institute Whitelaws, a little werewolf girl blinded, and Magnus impaled on Valentine’s sword and bleeding out rapidly. It had not been pretty.

Luke had figured that it was only his attempt to get Valentine to stop that night, his and Jocelyn’s later defection with the Cup, and his new status as a werewolf that made Magnus decide to help them two years before when they’d come to him about Clary. The cordial, semi-professional relationship that followed had been exactly what Luke had expected. He quite liked the warlock once he’d got to know him, and Luke was so grateful for all of Magnus’ help despite his and Jocelyn’s questionable past, but he thought a friendship was out of the question.

Yet now that he thought about it, the relationship between the four of them had been shifting lately. Magnus and Jocelyn had been meeting more often and Magnus clearly was growing attached to Clary. Enough that he didn’t mind watching her sometimes when Luke or Jocelyn were busy and couldn’t find another babysitter.

“I- Ah, thank you. Call me any time you want.” Luke’s right hand gripped the steering in nervousness.

“Oh and Luke, before you go…I’ve been thinking over your babysitting problem. You know that I’m quite fond of Biscuit but with Pandemonium just opening and that messiness with the vampire clan on the Eastside, I’m getting swamped with work. I don’t know if I have time or the allotted magic to look after her as often, since I have to disguise my face.”

“Oh, ok. I understand, Magnus, we’ll figure something out.”

“No, no,” Magnus rushed out. “I have an idea. I’ve just been in contact with a warlock moving to this area who might have need of a position. She’s quite lovely but she’s just been through a difficult time. I think she might benefit greatly from helping care for a child right now. Her name is Dorothea, if you’re interested.”

Luke shifted in his seat. “Uh, yeah, yeah…give me her number. I’ll talk to Jocelyn about it as soon as I can. It’s up to her, mostly.”

It would be really great to get a more permanent sitter after the last one had moved away and Magnus became busier. Doubly so for it to be a downworlder. But, like he’d told Magnus, it was Jocelyn’s decision in the end so he had to talk to her before agreeing.

“Excellent. I’ll text it after we hang up. Anyway, I won’t keep you. Good luck with the sketchbook.”

“Thank you so much, Magnus,” he said with warmth. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Luke hung up and waited for the beep that let him know he had a text. He flipped open his Motorola, saw the text had been sent fine, then put his phone back into his jacket pocket. Then he stuffed Clary’s book down in the door cubby.

When he looked back up, his partner was making his way to the car. The short man pulled open the door and ducked inside.

“Alright, G-Dog, let’s get going back to the precinct,” Delaney said in a mocking tone. “G-Dog” was the insulting nickname he had given Luke recently. Some kind of rap music reference Luke only vaguely understood. He had never been big on mundane music. “You have a report to write and I’ve got a promotion to nab. My CI thinks he might have a lock on a few dealers we could round up. We’ll head out this afternoon to check it then pass the info up the chain.”

Luke’s hands squeezed tight on the wheel. Delaney noticed and smirked.

“What’s wrong, Lukie? Something bothering you?”

Luke let out slow breath. His wolf, which had been pushing gently at his skin, calmed down with his exhale. Then a thrill of excitement shot through him. Drug ring lieutenants were certainly a better find than some low level pushers. No need to be angry.

“Delaney,” Luke paused, trying to word his next sentence correctly to get the result he needed. “I need to stop off somewhere before we head back. It’s close by…”

Delaney’s eyes sharpened. “And where would that be?”

Luke licked his lips in uncertainty. “I- Clary’s school. She forgot something she needed for classwork and I just want to run it in to her. I brought it with me.”

Delaney’s lip curled. “Trying to be a _real_ dad, huh? Isn’t that a contradiction?”

Luke looked puzzled. “What?”

“Statistically, I mean.”

Then Luke had understood. He shut his eyelids quickly as rage raced through him, hiding eyes he knew were shining green. When he got control of himself again and opened them, Delaney was staring at him in delight, mouth stretched in a hideous grin.

“It’s not like that. We’re just friends,” Luke managed through gritted teeth.

“What’ll you give me for it,” Delaney asked not losing his smile. His real goal, then. Minor intra-office extortion.

Luke’s jaw clenched and then he bit out, “What do you want?”

A gleam came to Delaney’s gaze then and Luke felt like he’d fallen into a trap.

“You’ve been hiding something from me, _partner_ ,” he said, voice slippery and cold. “Something to do with this case, I reckon. Give me what you have.”

Luke hesitated. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” his eyes narrowed. “You’ve been logging extra hours lately. Hours _not_ with me. And Lena over in records said you’ve been visiting the evidence locker every night for the last week. You’re investigating something. It’s either about this case or another one, but I want it.”

Luke looked away. He knew he’d been caught. Was it worth it to give up the lead he had on the drug ring? For a damned sketchbook?

Luke glanced down to where he could see it lodged next to him.

It was thick to bursting with heavy vellum pages coated in charcoal, dripping in crayon, and warped from watercolors. A few pages had been spackled with other bits of…something he didn’t recognize. The hard cover was originally a solid navy but use and spills had lighten spots to baby blue. It was covered in Lisa Frank stickers and swirling black marker just the same.

When Clary’s skill had outstretched the children’s coloring books a few months earlier, Jocelyn had started Clary on one of her own sketchbooks. Under her careful supervision she had also allowed her to use mediums other than pencil and crayon.

Luke had seen inside many times, the drawings not always making sense to him but beautiful all the same. She’d show it to him and he’d widen eyes the darkest of umber into amazement as he tried to talk about something he had no vocabulary for. But Clary would giggle as if utterly charmed no matter what he said so he figured it was alright. He’d spent over fifteen years with Jocelyn, watching her perfect her brush right next to her sword, yet in all that time he had not quite gotten the hang of critiquing those things correctly.

‘Just not your style,’ Jocelyn would say with a quirk of her eyebrow. ‘No shame in that,’ with a cherry kiss—to his cheek when they were younger, now graduating to his lips. He would look a little bashful but a hug on her waist and a twirl smoothed everything over.

Now _supplies_ he could do. He had lost count of how many runs he’d done to an art store in the last eight years but he reckoned he could name almost every item they could carry. His visits had been even more frequent since Clary had taken after Jocelyn and started drawing too.

Clary was proving to be an artistic prodigy just like her mother. She was endlessly curious to boot. Always anxious to try new mediums, coat her fingers in new colors, even if it took her a bit to get the feel of them.

This was _Clary’s_ sketchbook. Her most prized possession. He had to get it to her. He could wait to get a lead, right? Then again…

“Or else I could report you for trying to do something personal on company time and dime.”

Luke’s left eye twitched.

“You can’t blackmail me for something I haven’t even done yet.”

“Can’t I?”

“No,” Luke said looking directly into Delaney’s eyes, voice gone soft with danger. “You can’t.”

Delaney looked a bit scared then. His instincts finally kicking in. He had no idea he was locked in a small space with a ferocious, man-killing lycanthrope but Luke thought maybe the human was finally starting to sense it. Delaney’s eyes had gone a bit wide and his breath stuttered out a little.

Luke pulled it back in and released another long exhale, satisfied with that visceral reaction out of the man.

When the tension had eased, Luke chuckled a bit and let his left hand fall to fondle the pages of Clary’s drawings. He pursed his lips a bit and came to a decision.

Then he turned over the car engine and set off.

“Where are we going?”

“To Clary’s school.”

“Listen, buddy, I don’t care what kind of _relationship_ you think you have with that woman but-”

“You can have what I have,” Luke interrupted, glancing in a side view mirror as he switched lanes carefully.

“What?”

“The info. You were right; it’s about this case. Names and general locations of three lieutenants.”

Delaney let out a shocked grunt. “What? How did you-”

“You’re not the only one with CIs, Delaney. Despite your insistence that I’m incompetent, I am actually a pretty good cop.” He cut his eyes at the pale man. “Take the information, show it to Detective Gregory, and get the hell off my back.”

Delaney snapped his mouth shut in anger and the two drove in silence the rest of the way.

***

Luke stood rigidly, hands clenched a little tighter than they should’ve been around Clary's worn, hardback sketchbook. The spiral rings on one side dug deep into his left palm.

His broad shoulders shifted uncomfortably in his rookie blues, the mundane uniform felt so strange on his frame. He had graduated from the academy over two years before but he still wasn’t quite accustomed to the fit. Too different from his shadowhunter gear.

His eyes were closed again today, and he was breathing deeply to calm himself. The dull muffle of being lost inside his own mind, he could hear phones ringing, people chattering, and kids screaming.

But none of that mattered.

What mattered was the sketchbook in his hands. He hadn’t done all of that with his partner only to get stopped at the front desk because of a filing mishap.

“This is her favorite sketchbook. Can’t you, I don’t know, make an exception or something?”

He stood before a long brown desk made of fake wood, buried under office knickknacks and an assortment of used post it notes. A groaning PC screen took over the entire left half and the right was stuffed with desktop dividers overflowing with papers. The tired and overworked office assistant before him pushed tiny glasses up her thin, white nose and argued back in a rasping timber.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I just can’t do that. You’re not on my list.”

Luke’s jaw clenched and he widened his stance, preparing for battle.

“It’s not our fault…or Clary’s,” he said with a voice tight with tension, “that you lost the paperwork or misfiled whatever form. I know that Jocelyn called to tell you about me. I was standing next to her when she did. What are you going to do about this?”

He was trying so hard not to yell but it was a herculean effort.

“Officer, there is no proof of that. All I have is what is in our records and you’re not there.”

He had come in to deliver the sketchbook only to find that the school had not put his name on the Approved Adult list for Clary. It was the only official paperwork Jocelyn and Luke risked putting their names together for in case Luke needed to pick up Clary from school for emergencies.

And yet the assistant in front of him told him he wasn’t on it. Clary had only started at the new K-12 school after the three of them had moved from the Bronx to Brooklyn eight months before when Luke had been transferred to his new precinct. In that time he hadn’t needed to come to her school like this but apparently he’d been left off of the List since then.

“I can’t even begin to describe how unprofessional this is,” he growled out. “What if this had been a more serious emergency? What then?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “You’d be standing right here still not seeing that little girl. And honestly, you’re the one who’s being unprofessional. I told you why I can’t let you in. We have these rules to protect our kids. You’re a cop. You _have_ to get that.”

Luke swallowed hard and stretched his shoulders, trying to calm himself before he shifted into a wolf. This morning had been really taxing on his patience.

He looked at the clock on the wall.

The bus taking Clary on her four day field trip to the beach would leave in half an hour. Luke knew in his heart she would want her sketchbook for something like this. A chance to try and capture the ocean with her own hands? An opportunity not to be missed.

He thought hard about his next move. He did understand the necessity of the rules. It was that the school had messed up and wanted to blame it on them that pissed him off. But it was twenty-five minutes to Clary left and he couldn’t let her be devastated.

“Listen, we’ll clear up the Approved Adult list issue later. Fine. You’re right about why the school needs it,” he bit out begrudgingly. “So, why don’t I leave the sketchbook here and you send it back to her?”

“We can’t accept any items from anyone other than her parents,” she paused to look Luke up and down, “or someone on the Approved Adult list. That’s also against our school policy.”

He snapped.

“Listen,” he looked down at the front of her desk, “Dolores…Clary has been excited for this trip since school started. Her life and passion is art. She has been talking about drawing some damned seashells or crabs or whatever the hell for a month now. I had to roll over for my racist partner to come here during work hours, her bus leaves in twenty minutes, and I won’t let your people’s shoddy paper pushing break her heart. Just take the damn book, look through it if you have to, and hand it to her teacher.”

He was nearly yelling the last of it and the entire administrative office, full of secretaries, teachers, and a couple of upperclassman students, stopped what they were doing to stare at Luke.

Dolores’ face went stiff, her voice cold. “I’m sorry, officer. I won’t do that. Please leave before I take your badge number and report you to your boss.”

Luke slumped. All the wind had been taken from him at her words. He had failed.

He couldn’t really understand why his chest hurt so much or why he had been so desperate to do this. It was just a stupid sketchbook. Why was he going to all this trouble? Why did his heart feel like it was being crushed under the weight of his own emotions?

Luke looked up to the ceiling and finally gave up. Without another word, he turned and left the office. The buzz of workers going about their workday rose back up behind him.

He was half way out the front door of the school when he heard it.

“Hey, wait,” a high pitched voice called out.

Luke turned. A young woman stood behind him carrying a stack of files and a thermos. She had mahogany brown skin and straight dark hair. She wore a yellow sundress and looked to be in her twenties. He recognized her as someone who’d been in the administrative office.

She smiled softly.

“Hey, I- I overhead your rather loud conversation. My name’s Janika Purnell. I can give Clary the book.”

Luke stood shocked. “What?”

She smiled again. “I’ll be honest with you, it _is_ against school policy but I have Clary for one of my classes. Language Arts. She never stops talking about her cop dad. I figure that’s you, right?”

Luke nodded mutely.

“Listen, I won’t tell, if you won’t tell. I’ll take the sketchbook to her myself.”

“I don’t want to you get in trouble,” he said worried.

She let out a peal of laughter, light and airy. “You’re very kind but it’s okay. I doubt anyone will find out. Plus, I hate Dolores anyway. You do not even know the amount of times she’s misplaced my attendance sheets. Trust me, you’re doing _me_ a favor by giving me a way to get back at her.”

Luke chuckled a little at that. “T- thank you. Thank you so much. I won’t forget this.”

She opened her arm a little and Luke set the sketchbook on top of her stack of files.

“Oh, and definitely file a complaint about the Approved Adult list. I guarantee Dolores messed that up for you. You’re right, it would’ve been really bad if this had been an emergency.”

“I will,” Luke said fervently. He’d get Jocelyn to call first thing the next day. It was unacceptable. He said goodbye to Janika and made his way back to his squad car.

Luke wasn’t sure why he had done all of this. Why had it been so important to him? So important he’d bargained away a lead on an important case to his douchebag partner and nearly torn up an office worker.

He poked at the edges of the matter in his mind but he felt a bit too scared to really unpack the issue.

But when Clary came running up to meet him as he walked to grab her little duffle bag nearly a week later, red hair streaming behind her, green eyes shining with joy, and her little blue sketchbook locked in her grip…his chest grew tight and his hands shook and he thought everything _was_ worth it.


End file.
